Scars
by TheLostFoodie
Summary: One shot: Lauren Lewis exposes her battle to control emotions through physical pain. UPDATED - Second chapter added to expand upon Bo's POV. This is AU/all human and graphic. Trigger warning enclosed. Rated M due to graphic content.
1. Chapter 1

_Author notes: Lauren Lewis gets the raw end of the deal A LOT, and I considered how she deals with all of it on an emotional level. That thought led to this really dark one-shot in an AU/all human setting. _

_**Trigger warning**__: this is a one shot depiction of physical pain to aid in emotional release. It is somewhat graphic and the entire one shot could be a trigger. I strongly urge you to please read with caution or don't read any of it. If you have read my other fics, please note this is nothing like my typical fluffy stuff. At all. This is outside of my typical writing box._

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A.M.

A long familiar warped heartbeat thumped inside her chest. Her lungs pulled and pushed oxygen repeatedly, her shoulders drooping further with each exhale. These two physical responses were truly the only indication that she still existed in the land of the living. Her mind absent of thought and her body absent of feeling, Lauren curled her knees toward her chest and sunk further under the blankets. For a moment she wished to fall back to sleep, enjoying the comfort of unconsciousness so much more these days. At least then her body and mind gained rest and time to heal. Strange how all the sleep, or lack thereof, had done little to help that healing process. On the contrary, if anything, Lauren had slipped further away from a healthy life. She teetered on the brink of no return.

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P.M.

She didn't bother to stare at the dial pad as she had done in the past. With a decision made, Lauren unlocked her phone and pressed her favorite speed dial. Just hearing the first ring boosted her spirit. It only took one additional ring for her call to be answered.

_"It's been two months, doctor."_

Lauren glanced at the calendar hanging above her desk. Two months. She was right. It had been two months. The longest she had ever gone between calls was three months. Lauren swallowed and looked down, feeling a wash of guilt for giving in and not lasting longer this time. Yet hearing that voice with a mix of discipline and seduction made Lauren question why she had even waited that long.

"When can you fit me in?"

_"I don't even get a hello first?"_

Lauren ignored her question, solely focused on securing the earliest time slot possible.

"Please."

Her sigh carried her disappointment but the answer that followed showed the depth of her understanding.

_"Come now. I'll clear my schedule."_

Lauren heard the click as the line disconnected. She placed her phone on the desk. Her spine tingled as her nerves jumped and fluttered with each passing second. It provided a hint of a reminder about what she felt years ago, when life was simple and happy. When her heart remained open to love and affection. When she actually had good feelings and emotions didn't make her consider death as a better option. When she could actually feel something, anything.

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Late P.M.

Standing outside the thick steel door, the flood light shining down upon her provided enough illumination for Lauren to press the buzzer and punch in the code she had committed to memory all those years ago. It was her own private code that no one else knew, and it would always allow the owner of this establishment to know Lauren had arrived. A green light on the digital box appeared and the door unlocked, giving way as Lauren turned the handle and stepped inside. Releasing her grip on the handle, the door slowly closed behind her and provided an audible click when the lock mechanism engaged. The hollow hallway echoed each of Lauren's steps. She wore flip flops today, highly unusual but the warm summer air had been highly oppressive for weeks now and socks would only make it worse. The wall mounted lights lining the hallway appeared dimmer than usual, but otherwise nothing had changed in appearance. The dark-colored paint, the shiny steel floor and the heavy oak door staring at her from the opposite end of the hall appeared just as they had during her previous countless visits.

Now standing still outside the wooden door, the tiny camera mounted above caught her image and not a moment later did the door open. The blood inside her veins flowed a little faster now, a mix of shame and excitement stirring that rotting organ protected behind her rib cage. Two steps inside that door and Lauren could feel her presence. She couldn't look up though, instead staring at the floor as the woman she came to visit closed the door and stepped behind her. Lauren's spine tingled again, whether from memory or anticipation it was hard to tell. A sudden jolt of forgotten feeling surged through her when two hands were placed on her shoulders. It made Lauren gasp before exhaling through the outburst.

_"Lauren…"_

With eyes still fixed on the floor before her, the doctor shook her head side to side as a swell of sadness grew from the pit of her soul and begged for release. The beginning was always the hardest part, as her emotions surfaced in the only way they knew how. It reminded her of why she wished to cease living on so many occasions, the utter internal torment so devastating that nothing ever made her feel better. Except this. Except _her._

"Thank you for not making me wait."

Those strong hands tightened the grip on her shoulders before releasing the hold and sliding down gently over her arms. The touch ignited her physically, giving her a different kind of flutter that shut out the emotional one for a moment, but only for a moment. As in every other instance, the emotional jump reappeared quickly and maintained its presence jointly with the physical from that point on.

_"I will never make you wait. I thought I made that clear."_

True to that very statement, those strong hands shifted from arms to waist and slid under Lauren's shirt. Instinctively Lauren raised her arms high above her head, allowing her shirt to be pulled up and over her head quickly. The air temperature was perfect for her exposed skin, and it was only the arousal of that touch which caused the goose bumps to appear down her arms. She heard her shirt land softly on the floor as Lauren returned her arms to her sides and those hands returned to her skin. Those hands that provided such a gentle caress but yielded the power to make her very physical form bleed at her request: the request she needed to speak only once each and every visit to initiate her darkest desires.

With one hand, Lauren reached around her back and unsnapped her bra before sliding the straps over her arms and tossing it aside. She finally looked up from the floor and gazed across the small room to the multitude of options presented for her choosing. Her decision to sit, or stand, or even lie down were all trumped by her repentant guilt and so without any further thought she stepped away from those hands and moved to a large pillar in the room. Slowly she dropped to her knees and rested her forehead against the steel beam. The metal was cooler than the air but it help temper the heat radiating from her skin. She closed her eyes as her arms dangled to the floor below, and patiently she waited for the only thing that would let her feel again.

Lauren counted the seven clicks of her heels crossing the room as she approached. It was followed by her right arm and then her left arm tugged and secured around the pillar. The cuffs around her wrists were lined with a soft material but the tightening strained her shoulders and forearms.

"Tighter."

A hesitated moment later, Lauren felt her request granted and the tightening of those straps pulled Lauren's body further against the steel beam. With her face turned aside, her body was pressed solid against the metal, the coolness hardening her nipples on contact. That extra tug provided a bit of pain that took the edge off the emotions fighting to come forth, but that slight bit of strain paled in comparison to the physical agony she downright craved.

The heels clicked another seven paces toward the far wall that housed many tools of the trade. She paused only momentarily to make her selection before retracing her steps back to Lauren. The next several moments felt eternal. Lauren's emotions had ruptured inside, her heart bleeding the blackness again and allowing it to seep in to her mind and infest the darkest parts of her spirit. Inside she begged and screamed for an immediacy to end this pain and suffering but silently she waited, as patiently as possible while the woman who provided her only source of comfort prepared for their session.

A gentle hand ran over her back once more. Fingers traced her scars like a baptism to end her torment. A tear dripped down her face while she stared to the side wall. Her facial expression void of emotion, Lauren swallowed those gentle touches like an overdose. She couldn't get enough of them and yet, each lingering fingertip poisoned her heart further. No one made her feel anything. No one made her love or hurt anymore. No one gave her hope or disappointment as she had become nothing, nothing but a shell of a soul; empty and uncertain whether to fill in the hole or dissolve until there was not even a shell remaining. And yet, even as she told herself on countless days and nights for the past two months that no one could change her, here Lauren knelt in front of the very woman who could create and destroy her all at once.

The first strike across her flesh came quickly, the cracking sound soothing her ears as the pain seared her skin. Her first exhale invigorated her lungs and Lauren even sighed audibly from the relief. The second strike hit slightly lower, the tingle returning to her spine and traveling all the way to her toes. She didn't flinch anymore from the connection that leather had against her back. If anything, the anticipation of each and every slash against her physical form incited her typical emotional absence to feel again. It went beyond waves or floods of emotion. She considered it a transcendence to another place, one that exceeded explanation or understanding. Each and every subsequent gash allowed Lauren the escape she would live or die for. The warm trickle of blood that trailed over her back created a cooling effect as the air mixed with the moisture coating her skin. And for the first time in two months, her breaths escaped at a normal pace, her mind thought nothing but pleasurable thoughts and her heart's emotions sang her a tune that would serve as her anthem of acceptance that this was the life she was meant to live. It was the only way she knew how to live.

An absence of strikes came quickly, only inciting Lauren to further her request.

"Again."

_"Lauren…"_

"I said again."

_"Lauren…"_

It was the first command never obeyed. She heard it in the tone of that simple spoken word, and it created a fear inside her that she had not expected. By now her arm muscles had relaxed and the strain on her wrists had dissipated. She pulled against the restraints, desperate for any physical pain that would let her feel something, anything again.

"I said again!"

She yelled it this time, her voice cracking against hope that her command would be honored. And when it was not, the poison inside her chest returned so quickly that she crumpled against that steel beam as the toxins escaped down her cheeks.

"Please…."

Through sobs and gasped breaths, Lauren begged, repeatedly, for anything to stop this venom. She wished for the only cure she knew of: the repeated strikes that would mark her soul and allow the physical pain to trump the emotional despair she had fallen in to so long ago and had never escaped. She used to black out from the searing cuts that crossed her back but her tolerance and her need had increased greatly as did her addiction. Lauren's cries morphed to uncontrollable hyperventilating that threatening to rob her of consciousness. She actually welcomed it as passing out would help her forget, for at least awhile anyway.

"Please….please…"

The next strike hit low and off to her side. Like the simple flick of a switch, her breaths changed again and returned to an even pace as the pain seeped out of her side and relieved a hint of pressure from within. Strike. Strike. Strike. Repeatedly each strike cracked between them and the melody of her flesh tearing with each connection now mixed with the sobs from the very woman who delivered each and every blow. Lauren tried to look over her shoulder but her position was fixed. She was unable to witness what she heard but it was impossible to mistake. Cries and sobs of sadness floated behind her as the physical pain relieved her once again. It allowed her thoughts to clear and her mind to sharply process the sounds of emotion ringing true behind her.

Strike.

_"I can't do this anymore Lauren."_

Strike.

_"I know this is the only way you see an exit."_

Strike.

_"But every scar I place on your body sears a scar on my heart."_

Strike.

_"You can't live without this. I can't live with this."_

The whip dropped to the floor before the woman dropped to her knees. Lauren's calm and calculated breaths contrasted greatly with the heartbreaking cries from behind her. There had never been an outcry of emotion like this before. Lauren struggled against the restraints as her instinct told her to turn around but she couldn't. Pulling harder against the steel beam did nothing but frustrate her, all the while the woman behind her exposed her own torment to the very person who understood torment better than the most damned in all of history.

"Release me."

This order was obeyed, albeit slowly, as the woman crawled to the beam and flipped the ratchet to release the hold on Lauren's arms. Lauren pulled free as the woman curled further to her own knees, uncontrollably voicing her emotions as she buried her face to her hands. Lauren slid her wrists from the binds and crawled around the beam. Kneeling face to face, bared soul to bared soul, Lauren and her beautiful savior stayed frozen in time, in space, and in all of hell itself for a length of time of which neither could be certain.

Lauren's heart had been broken and had crumbled so many times in the past that the prior few years gave her little space to feel, except when in session; the searing gashes created in her skin physically pained her enough to feel. And then there was this woman: this beautiful brunette she discovered after countless tries with random semi-professionals. This woman gave her life, or at the very least, the ability to live days a little easier than days before. She craved her presence, the way her spirit lifted the moment she walked down the sterile hallway and the incredible release of pain at the hand of the very woman who now knelt, broken and tormented before her.

Unsure of her own responses, Lauren reached a gentle hand to a knee and gazed upon those sensitive chocolate orbs with her own reddening eyes. A hand covered hers and the intertwined fingers that came about melded a mix of pain and conflict: the hand that delivered one's freedom had also been delivering her very own demise. It very much was a stalemate, and Lauren chastised herself for forgetting such a basic rule of chemistry. She had taken, and taken, and taken more, all the while the woman she took from had been robbed and emptied on each and every occasion. The transfer of relief had been so one sided that the premise of equilibrium would certainly force an intense shift to the other side in order to even out the balance between give and take. Lauren had tried to move forward without this need but failed every time. There was no living without it. And yet now, she feared she had no choice.

A soft touch to her cheek and Lauren held her breath. The pain throbbed through her back like the best of gifts she had ever received and yet, for some reason, an unfamiliar pain throbbed through her chest like a curse. She forced her energy to suppress it, expel it, destroy it, but the longer that gentle touch graced her face, the weaker she grew in the face of a newly discovered internal war. She lacked time to regroup and reattempt a win over that battle when those lips pressed to hers. A kiss. A kiss that in itself killed her right in that moment. It killed the Lauren she had come to know for years: broken, void of life, void of emotion, void of spirit. Like the cursed wave of a magic wand, or perhaps the blessing of a dash of fairy dust, Lauren Lewis experienced an emotion she never accepted in all her years on this worldly plane.

The overwhelming sensation of hope exploded through Lauren's stone structured soul, fragmenting and scattering that protective barrier far and wide. The softness of her lips never left, imprinting that kiss upon Lauren's hardened heart and providing an inkling of an antidote to a lifelong disease. Could it even be possible? Would it ever be possible? Those were the first two of a thousand questions that flooded her mind. Lauren knew none of the answers, but she did know one thing: her overwhelming want to kiss this woman overshadowed her want for another searing strike across her flesh because in truth, the emotional release that came about from that initial kiss exceeded the emotional release felt in a dozen blood drawing slashes. It created swirls of color in a blackened world, rays of light in a darkened night. Her mind stirred like that of a comatose patient, struggling to find a way to the place where realization and reality comprehension came naturally and the hazy confusion dissipated like the fog touched by the morning sun.

That kiss led to an embrace that further broke boundaries. Strong arms and weak hearts grasped together without the distortion of words. Instead, the silence provided the necessary shroud to protect the fragile state of whatever this shared experience had started. From the end of a rope now appeared a rather untraditional life preserver to which both women clung. No preparation would guide them through whatever experiences would come from this point forward, but in a storm that so many fear, there would always be one who would sail through the endless crashes of every wave.

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_And as usual, I don't own any characters._


	2. Chapter 2 - Internal Scars

_Well, I didn't think this was possible…to expand upon the **Scars** one shot and yet, here I am, uploading a follow up chapter that came about after I specifically told a reader I couldn't revisit this fic so soon (I really didn't think I could!) I haven't been able to leave this piece alone & it's keeping me from writing everything else right now. I hope getting this on paper will allow me to get back to fluff (fingers crossed.) Thank you kindly for those reviews and private messages: your words impact me more than I can express. I may be delayed on replying to you due to my insanely tight schedule over the next two weeks but please know I am humbled and honored you have come back to read more. So without further ado, I present to you this follow up chapter, **Internal Scars**…_

_**Trigger warning from chapter 1 applies to this chapter as well**__: this is a one shot depiction of physical pain to aid in emotional release. It is somewhat graphic and the entire one shot could be a trigger. I strongly urge you to please read with caution or don't read any of it. If you have read my other fics, please note this is nothing like my typical fluffy stuff. At all. This is outside of my typical writing box._

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P.M.

With closed eyes, Bo suppressed an overwhelming desire to cry. With each heartbeat, another unanswered question dominated her thoughts. All her repeated prayers never provided answers, but she bowed her head in silence hoping for a miracle. She knelt properly despite how the worn cushion provided little comfort to her knees. A slow and steady breath attempted to shed years of weighted emotion. The tiny confessional still made her feel small, reducing her hope to nothing more than pathetic desperation. While each visit granted Bo a temporary reprieve from her heart breaking demons, her struggle remained buried deep within her soul, anchored to the very foundation of who she had become. The turmoil of a love left unspoken made it necessary to seek comfort for her internal scars. She had returned to the same confessional frequented in the past, always desperate to find forgiveness for her sins from a man she routinely liberated from his very own. With one large exhale, Bo slowly reopened her eyes and glanced at the man in black with a hint of white secured around his neck. He nodded to her, acknowledging her presence before tugging on his shirt collar, his own rising need to seek penance suddenly at the surface.

"Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession."

She considered three weeks a milestone. Time and distance had granted Bo more peaceful days and less need for spiritual guidance, a far cry from past daily visits that barely kept her functioning. Just two months prior, Bo knelt before this very man and sought strength for the emotional load she shouldered from her chosen profession. Years of attention and meticulous care of her clients had left little room to tend to her own suffering soul. Her level of professional excellence had crowned Bo with divine hands and a flock that worshiped her more than life itself. Bo had built her own private temple, one that grew so large that she began to lose herself in the vast expanse of her clients' needs. She balanced on the edge between heaven and hell until that one faithful day, when one woman stepped before her and made her desperate to find an escape. One beautiful, battered soul that initiated the collapse of Bo's domain and ultimately brought this mistress to her knees.

An unexpected ring echoed from Bo's purse. It was a sound she had not heard in two months: the celestial ringtone assigned to the only one who haunted her mind and her heart. The flash of panic worn across Bo's face told the very reverent man which caller beckoned her at such an ironic time. The brunette's countless confessions had given him knowledge of her most intricate secrets: the mysterious blonde savior and her broken spirit, Bo's emotional upheaval from falling in love with the unlovable, and Bo's daily battle to seek out or hide from the doctor who held the power to heal despite her own abundance of hurt. The blonde's previous repeated visits blessed Bo with hopeful dreams of love, all the while cursing her with soul-splitting nightmares of anguish from wanting something beyond arm's length. He saw Bo's weakness instantly and never doubted Bo's next move, her actions proving his prediction true as she fished the phone from her purse and initiated a complete relapse from months of progress.

_"It's been two months, doctor."_

Just answering that call admitted her allegiance in the face of God and a man who swore an oath to uphold His order. Bo smiled a weary, heartfelt smile as the word "doctor" crossed her lips. Even though this moment committed her soul to a miserable space in hell, Bo suddenly felt closer to heaven than she had in two months, knowing Lauren breathed on the other end of that call. It was the call she prayed would never come but willingly admitted thanks for receiving. Two months absent Lauren Lewis suddenly disappeared as Lauren's voice rang through the device tightly pressed against her ear.

_"When can you fit me in?"_

Her heart soared from the request, Bo's delusional mind choosing to see images of white picket fences rather than black leather whips and the physical scars she created. She glanced at the priest who silently watched her fall from grace. Another wash of shame greeted her. Bo attempted to show her strength in his presence, but her resistance to the woman in control appeared mediocre, at best.

"I don't even get a hello first?"

_"Please."_

Bo closed her eyes. One simple, spoken word manipulated Bo's heart. For years she raged against her love for Lauren. She had processed every reason, every excuse, every sound thought on how this one woman would be her demise and yet, Bo never found the strength to say no. The guilt swallowed a little more of her soul, voiced through a heavy sigh before she provided the same answer given at every prior request.

"Come now. I'll clear my schedule."

Bo ended the call and returned the phone to her purse. She looped it over her shoulder before staring at the man still staring back at her. Her nod echoed humility and grace, silently appreciating his time but closing her confession with an exit before it ever had a chance to begin.

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Late P.M.

The wall mounted digital display signaled Lauren's arrival. The simple appearance of that green indicator light stood bright in the dimly lit room, shining like a beacon to guide Bo from this desolate place and illuminate a path to safer ground. The swell inside Bo's chest blossomed as Lauren strolled the length of the hallway and neared that wooden door. Her emptiness had multiplied without Lauren in her life, and two solid months void of the woman she loved silently had created Bo's own private hell. Her heart yearned for Lauren's presence while her hands trembled at the thought. For those two months, Bo lost focus, her drive to succeed tempered with the struggle to merely exist. She had stopped taking new clients, and the few faithful she allowed to visit were limited to those moments when Bo had the strength to provide the very best interactions. Truth be told, those moments were very few and far between. Yet now, the overwhelming urge to smile and cry simultaneously washed through Bo when Lauren's beautiful image appeared on that tiny wall mounted screen. It was but a quick glimpse of her Lauren; the fractured blonde who simultaneously served as her captor and liberator from this emotional prison. Quickly, Bo opened the door and granted entrance to the woman who truly had no idea that she held all the power, all the control, and all of Bo's heart.

The beginning was always the easiest part. In these few moments when Bo could simply exist in Lauren's presence and love her without pain, without inflicting pain; yes, this was the part Bo lived for. It was when her heart beat the loudest on every visit, and Bo reveled in that false sense of happiness as Lauren stepped inside that room. Bo wanted to look upon Lauren's face, stare in those eyes and see that beautiful smile but her hopes were quickly dashed when Lauren stepped passed her and kept her eyes fixed to the floor. Bo quietly shut the door, hovering behind the doctor as she debated her own desires to initiate a gentle touch rather than a wicked hand. Softly, Bo placed both palms to Lauren's shoulders. The connection sizzled through Bo's hands and ignited her very core desires to profess her love and end this torturous hell she stirred in daily. She thought of a million ways to say it but the only word she found strength to voice was the first and last word that defined her love.

"Lauren…"

The blonde shook her head, and Bo sensed Lauren's desperation before a reply followed. Bo's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She never pretended to understand the depth of Lauren's need, but Bo had always accepted it as a part of the woman she loved from afar. The easy part had ended, and suddenly Bo remembered why this pained her so much. Suddenly she remembered that white picket fences only existed in her dreams and reality was nothing more than a dark affliction from her unquenchable thirst.

_"Thank you for not making me wait."_

Hearing that angelic voice forced Bo's hands to tighten but the brunette instantly released the fierce grip, her heart struggling with recognition of the pain she caused to this beautiful body; pain she was certainly about to cause again. In a sudden shift, Bo slid her hands gently down Lauren's arms, all the while the bile threatened to rise within as she felt sickened with memories of previous encounters. In that moment, Bo found a solid hatred of herself and bowed to her unyielding love for the doctor who seemed more fragile now, more distance from life, and completely void of hope.

"I will never make you wait. I thought I made that clear."

With conviction, Bo slid her hands under Lauren's shirt and pulled it quickly over her head. She fought her heart's overwhelming desire to hold Lauren in her arms; the offered embrace of a protective lover more appealing than her own forceful hand. She tossed the shirt aside before gracing her hands over Lauren's skin. The visual of those scars coating Lauren's back almost dropped Bo to the floor. Years ago, she found solace is knowing they were put there with love and by request, but the depth of Bo's feelings had taken her far away from those superficial justifications. She couldn't resist touching the blonde, but no sooner did she feel the warmth of Lauren's skin than the doctor unsnapped her own bra and unceremoniously stepped from Bo's grasp.

Ritualistic as it felt, a dejected Bo followed Lauren to the center of the room. Her sorrow swelled as Bo realized she was about to deliver more of the agonizing pain causing her own demise. Locking the wrist cuffs secured Bo's misery inside her chest. With care, she affixed Lauren's restraints around the steel column and procured further heartache. Her practiced hand leveraged the ratchet carefully until Lauren's arms were pulled tight.

_"Tighter."_

Bo tightened her fists instead, slowly exhaling her emotional pain before heeding the spoken request. She clicked the mechanism another two full notches, lowering her spirit further in to darkness as Lauren became tightly bound in place. The agony rolled through Bo's chest like salt to an already infected wound. Her grasp to hope slipped with each passing second. With her heart crumbling, Bo forced her mind to take command. She shut down her emotions and stepped in to an autopilot role, beginning a routine she had completed thousands of times before. She proceeded to the wall and stared at the assortment of tools available, locating the particular item reserved specifically for Lauren. She always picked the same one, as somewhere in her mind Bo thought the doctor would appreciate uniformity in the scars she placed upon her delicate skin.

Each step back to the center of the room elevated Bo's heart rate. She stood behind the blonde who knelt so quietly, even though Bo knew inside Lauren was screaming for her to begin. Bo took one last moment to provide a gentle touch, grazing her thumb over Lauren's scars while her suppressed emotions surfaced again. A silent tear coated her cheek. The raised skin radiated Lauren's pain and her release. Bo absorbed every drop of that feeling, knowing and accepting she was the one to fulfill the needs no one else could ever provide.

Bo shifted her position, physically distancing herself from Lauren to provide the perfect striking space. She forced her heart to follow, separating from her body as her hand unleashed the slashes over Lauren's battered skin. Each strike was precise and delivered as exceptionally well as the first. Bo searched for more excuses, begging the gods for reasons why she was chosen to deliver this woman from her own personal evil. Lauren wanted this and Bo provided it, but she couldn't even find respite with the thought. At her hand, Lauren bled. At her hand, Lauren breathed easy. The holiness of Bo's hands invoked the power to heal through the delivery of pain.

_"Again."_

Bo had not realized she had stopped, so fixated on the blood trailing over Lauren's back that the doctor's request had caught her by surprise.

"Lauren…"

_"I said again."_

"Lauren…"

Bo struggled to voice the depth of her thoughts. Her hands shook, a steady stream of tears now flowed from her eyes as she lost the ability to suppress her emotions. Silently, Bo prayed that Lauren would not make another request because in truth, these were not just requests: they were Lauren's needs that Bo felt destined to fulfill.

_"I said again!"_

The anger in Lauren's voice filled the room. Bo grew angrier with herself, unsure of how to voice her love for Lauren and her want to smother the doctor with gentle embraces, not wicked lashes of leather. The brunette tightened her jaw, chastising herself for falling in love and even scolding her decade-old decision to choose the path that ultimately led to this very moment. It wasn't Lauren's anger that pushed Bo to continue but an unexpected, whispered plea that followed from the blackened heart of the very woman who never showed an ounce of emotion prior.

_"Please."_

Lauren begged, repeatedly, for Bo to continue. Bo gripped the leather whip tight as she nearly buckled from the sound. The brunette hunched over, grimacing from her own emotional pain as she mentally prepared to deliver the relief Lauren desperately craved. She stared upon Lauren's crumpled form, barely held against that steel beam by the strap that kept her arms in place. Bo's heart shattered as the image burned to memory and made her contemplate a final exit from the very life she had built.

_"Please...please."_

Unable to endure Lauren begging for mercy, Bo flicked that leather with force. With each strike, Bo created a mental barrier to her own breaking heart, flooding her mind with visions of treasured dreams to block out the ungodly sight of Lauren's blood-coated, angelic flesh.

Strike. Stolen kisses, gentle embraces, smiling faces.  
>Strike. Whispered words of affection, passionate affirmations, profound adoration.<br>Strike. Exchanged vows, white doves, professed love.

The repetitive strikes silenced Lauren's cries as her sniffles shifted to calmer breaths of relief, while Bo's restrained tears erupted to deafening sobs. Her conflicted conscience had broken; had truly broken as Bo lacked control to stop her wails. Each and every subsequent strike from her hand brought upon her very own collapse.

Strike.

"I can't do this anymore Lauren."

Strike.

"I know this is the only way you see an exit."

Strike.

"But every scar I place on your body sears a scar on my heart."

Strike.

"You can't live without this. I can't live with this."

Bo dropped the whip, succumbing to her breakdown and falling to her knees. She had never cried like this, in all her years of ups and downs, Bo Dennis never felt so damaged and broken. It was in this moment that Bo understood how people contemplated alternative options to end pain and suffering, preferring absolutely anything to end the ache that festered in her chest and poisoned her tormented soul. Her tears dripped steadily to the floor as Bo released an outpouring of emotions to follow the most honest words she had spoken since meeting Lauren Lewis. She considered herself a failure. She had failed to provide the basic needs her client demanded. She had failed the woman she loved by lacking voice to express her devotion. She had failed to follow the very basic rules of a woman in her position by ever allowing this emotional connection to begin, let alone grow and thrive in her heart until it all but destroyed her ability to conduct business. Bo found herself in a position of her greatest weakness yet, her unimaginable self-persecution robbing her of hope, strength and the very basic will to go on.

_"Release me."_

Bo glanced over to the woman struggling to free herself from those binds. The slashes were fewer than prior visits but still created the same overwhelming sadness in Bo's heart. She had no choice but to release Lauren, despite fearing this would be the last time the blonde ever sought her expertise. Slowly Bo crawled to the pillar, thinking a release of Lauren's binds would chain Bo to her own lifetime of misery. Even so, Bo flicked the ratchet and folded into herself. With face pressed to unsteady hands, Bo hunched tightly against her knees as her heart darkened further with each passing minute. She could have died in that space and cared less save for the gentle hand that fell upon her knee. Cautiously, Bo lowered her hands and looked upon the compassionate, battered form of her beautiful Lauren. Her heartbeat quickened as their eyes met for the first time that night, providing visions of grace in an otherwise war-ravaged space.

The gentle, offered hand from a woman who lacked emotion realigned the fragments of love inside the brunette. Bo did not hesitate to touch that trembling hand, smothering it with the warmth she always wished to provide. Fingers laced together and entwined their distressed worlds. Bo's heart instantly soared as she established the first intimate connection void of inflicting pain with the woman who unknowingly had stolen her heart. It was but a glimpse in to those distant dreams Bo longed to make a reality. She feared Lauren's departure would be the finale to their complicated dance, whereas she wished for merely an end to the roles in which they were each cast. Seizing opportunity better than the leather whip molded perfectly to her grip, Bo lifted her free hand and gently placed it upon Lauren's tear-coated cheek.

The tingle from Bo's fingertips shot straight to her chest. It pushed the air from her lungs and the thought from her mind. There was no doubting the emotions awakened within as Bo dared to cross the line that would define her resurrection or commit her to eternal damnation. With a calculated move, Bo placed her lips to Lauren's, initiating a kiss that culminated every pulse Bo's heart had beat since the day Lauren Lewis walked in to her life. It was a lovely tragedy, being blessed with the ability to momentarily lift Lauren from emotional anguish. It was a devastating irony that it happened solely from physical pain.

Locked in that kiss, Bo emanated a glow of adoration as she absorbed Lauren's lifetime of heartache. Feeling the most intimate of encounters with the press of her lips, Bo silently devoted her unwavering heart and pledged a committed effort to show this beautiful, damaged soul that the miracle of love could provide feelings against which no physical punishment would ever compete. And when Lauren willingly remained in that kiss, Bo's hopes soared to the highest heavens as she found her faith restored. With a concerted effort and patience to rival the holiest of Saints, Bo chose to take the first step in a potentially endless journey to guide Lauren from the depths of her own private hell.

Their collective embrace provided recognition that a typical heavy hand wielded a greater power to protect rather than to inflict. A shared pinnacle moment created the foundation for a lifetime of memories, all the gods above bearing witness to their joint ascension from drowning anguish. A culmination of mutual sentiment emanated from their entwined arms and united souls. Anchored hearts swam through the swelling tide of emotions and offered a silent prayer for serenity: a prayer that would guide them both through this brutal raging sea to the shores of everlasting peace.

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